Chapter 2: Gone Gone

Failure struck as swiftly as the bullet pierced Eliza’s side, ripping through her kidney and spilling her blood onto the cold floor. The crown lay in the pale man’s hands, his sunken face twisted in confusion as he watched her. He had observed her curiously throughout this ordeal, perplexed by her actions.

Why is she helping me? he thought. This human… She is so strange. So fragile. Why risk everything for me?

Now, as she lay bleeding out before him, all she could do was look up at him with fading eyes and whisper, “Sorry.”

The pale man—The Prince—felt something stir within him. It wasn’t sorrow, nor grief, but something deeper and unfamiliar. Duty. This frail, strange human had been the one thing he could not: compassionate. Yet as her life drained away, anger consumed him.

This world, he thought, his expression tightening. It is strange. Its humans need no dragons nor magic to burn and destroy. They wield weapons that rip flesh asunder with ease. Even this prison they’ve constructed… It feels alien, but powerful.

In the distance, Simon barked orders into a walkie-talkie. His voice was cold, almost gleeful.

“Subdue the target. Kill the woman.”

The guard’s voice crackled in response. “Understood.”

The Prince’s grip tightened on the crown as he glanced down at Eliza’s blood pooling at his feet. Damnit, he thought. I may not get another chance… But if I put this on again, it will never come off.

He hesitated, staring at her pale, trembling form. She had risked everything to free him, defying the very people who sought to control them both. Despite his confusion, despite his anger, he couldn’t deny the faint whisper of responsibility he felt toward her.

This little human, he thought bitterly, has chosen to be what I never could… Compassionate.

The sound of boots echoed down the hall as the guards approached. One stepped forward, weapon drawn. The Prince met his gaze, his glowing eyes narrowing. His lips parted, and his voice, rough and ancient, escaped in halting English. It was as though he were piecing the words together from fragmented memories.

“In my realm…” he began, his tone low and menacing. “Humans like yourself…” He paused, searching for the right words. “They have… a word for my kind. It is monster.”

He stepped forward, placing himself between Eliza and the guard. Slowly, he extended his right hand. As he channeled his power, his pointer finger began to blacken, the skin splitting as the flesh necrotized. The corruption spread rapidly down his hand—his bones emerging as the flesh peeled away like charred paper. By the time he raised his hand fully, half of it was nothing but bone.

“Let us see,” he growled, his voice deepening to a reverberating snarl, “if it means the same here as it does there.”

With a thunderous command, he cried, “Summon—BOOONEZZZZ!”

Purple lightning crackled around him, illuminating the hallway in a flash of eerie light. The air grew heavy as a decayed dog materialized before him, its skeletal frame held together by tendrils of rotting sinew and pulsating violet energy. With a guttural growl, the creature lunged at the guards, tearing through their formation and sowing chaos.

The Prince flexed his skeletal hand, pain lancing through him. Good, he thought. I can summon here. But the mana cost… It took my flesh. He studied the withered remains of his hand grimly. Is it because this world lacks magic? Or does magic here demand a greater price? He shook his head. Damn. I was getting used to looking human again.

He turned his attention to Eliza. Her blood stained the floor, her body wracked with shuddering breaths. His eyes narrowed as he crouched beside her.

“She was hit by one of their weapons,” he muttered to himself. “It does not seem to be magical damage… Kinetic, perhaps?” He leaned closer, inspecting her wounds. “Multiple entry points. It has pierced deep… Damnit. It cannot be helped.”

Placing his decaying hand over her wound, he gritted his teeth. “Saint of the Poor—Greater Healing!”

Golden light erupted from his hand, enveloping Eliza in a soft glow. Her breathing steadied, the bleeding slowed, and her wounds began to close. But the price was steep. As the holy magic coursed through him, the decay spread further, eating away at his flesh with merciless efficiency. The bones of his hand now extended past his wrist, the rot claiming him inch by inch.

“Damnit,” he growled through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. “I am an idiot. Using holy magic as a lich…” He winced as another sharp pang of pain wracked him. “It hurts, but here… It’s worse. This world… It is unforgiving.”

Still, he forced himself to finish, his hand trembling as he ensured her wounds were healed. “At least she… appears stable now,” he muttered, glancing down at her unconscious form. His glowing eyes softened, if only for a moment. “She saved me. Now… I repay the debt.”

“It will never be said that Prince Tenebrae does not pay his debts—even to humans.”

He stared at the black crown in his hands, its jagged edges weathered and rusted, a relic of his father’s kingdom. The single green gemstone set in its center was dull and lifeless, a faint echo of the power it once held. He traced its contours, his skeletal fingers brushing against it, knowing full well what placing it upon his head would mean.

This is the last time, he thought grimly. Once it’s on, it will never come off again.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The crown was not just a symbol—it was a test. It measured the worth of its wearer and exacted a great price for its removal before the trial was complete. For those foolish enough to don it a second time, the punishment was said to be unimaginable. Tenebrae knew this all too well. He had never intended to wear it again, never sought to be king. The council had ruled well enough in his absence, and the crown’s weight had been one he was glad to leave behind. But now, circumstances left him no choice.

Placing the crown upon his head, he winced as its cold, jagged edges seemed to bite into his scalp. For a moment, the world spun, and a searing pain lanced through him. Damn you, Lilith. I will deal with you later, he thought, the bitter memory of her betrayal. She was the reason he was trapped here in this world. She most likely was helping his brother Cision.

Damnit...he thought.

The summoned bone dog fought valiantly, snapping and tearing at the guards. Its decayed form, held together by sinew and dark magic, bought them precious time. But even its ferocity had limits. Overwhelmed and torn apart, the creature dissolved into a cloud of violet mist.

In the brief reprieve the dog had granted them, Tenebrae crouched beside Eliza, his shadow looming over her trembling form. “Woman,” he barked, his glowing eyes narrowing as bullets ricocheted around them. “Repeat after me.”

Her eyes darted to him, wide and terrified. She could barely process his words.

“Woman, do you hear me?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Are you deaf?”

Her voice quivered as she managed to stammer, “E-Eliza…”

He paused, realizing for the first time that she wasn’t simply ignoring him—she was frozen, paralyzed by fear. Her lips trembled, her hands clutching her side as she pressed against the wall. She wasn’t just afraid of the guards, or even the chaos around her. She was afraid of him.

The realization struck him like a blow. She saw him not as a savior, but as something far worse—a monster.

He sighed sharply, his patience thinning. Stray bullets grazed him as he shielded her, and he flinched, the pain sharp but fleeting. “Listen, Eliza,” he growled. “We do not have time for this. Do you have family here? Is there anyone who will come for you?”

Her breath hitched. His words brought her a cold, shuddering realization she had buried for far too long. “No,” she whispered, barely audible. Her voice cracked, and then the truth spilled out in broken fragments. “No… no… no one… I’m divorced… alone. I have… no one.”

The weight of her words crushed her. The truth of her solitude hit her like a physical blow, an invisible hand wrapping around her chest and squeezing until she could barely breathe.

It wasn’t just loneliness—it was an endless chasm, dark and yawning, stretching out before her. The realization felt like a bottomless pit, her thoughts tumbling into it, one after the other, until they disappeared into the void. She was an island in a vast, uncaring sea, adrift without anchor or purpose.

Her mind raced with questions she couldn’t answer. How did I let it get this bad? How did I become so… alone? The silence of her life was deafening, an oppressive hum that seemed to drown out every sound. She thought of the empty apartment she returned to every night, the echoing stillness that greeted her like a cruel reminder of her failures.

Her chest tightened, the feeling spreading like a vine, twisting and constricting her lungs. It was suffocating. It was unbearable. It was as if she were trapped beneath a sheet of ice, her screams muted by the cold, her fists pounding against an unyielding barrier as the world moved on without her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared into the glowing gaze of the being before her. He was death incarnate, a walking nightmare, and yet, in this moment, she envied him. He had purpose. He had power. He had a kingdom to fight for.

And her? She had nothing.

Her voice trembled as she whispered again, “I’m alone… I have no one…”

Tenebrae’s eyes softened, though only slightly. He didn’t understand the full breadth of her pain, but the words carried a weight he could not ignore. Humans, with all their strange emotions, seemed to drown in their own solitude. She had chosen to risk everything to free him—a creature of death and ruin—and now she stared back at him with eyes full of despair.

Eliza’s breath hitched at his words, her fear deepening as they left his lips.

“Good,” he said, his voice as cold and commanding as the grave itself. “Then you are mine. Repeat after me, and this world will become either a nightmare you wake up from, or a dream you wish to remember. Either way… Speak, woman, or we both risk being prisoners again.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. The bullets striking around them seemed distant compared to the weight of his words. His presence was suffocating, overwhelming, as if death itself had taken form before her.

His gaze flicked to the guards advancing closer, and he gritted his teeth. The weapons of this world were strange—physical, yet more damaging than any holy relic he had encountered in his realm. They tore at his body in ways he could not ignore, and while his lich form would offer him invulnerability, he wasn’t ready to sacrifice his humanity again. Not yet.

Eliza’s voice wavered as she finally stammered, “…O-okay.”

“Good,” he replied, his tone dark and sharp. “Now listen carefully. What I’m about to tell you, you must swear to repeat only this one time, and again only when I ask. No matter what. Do you understand?”

Confusion flashed across her face, her panic momentarily breaking through the fog of terror. “What?” she asked, flinching as another bullet whizzed past. “What am I supposed to repeat?”

His glowing eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. “Woman, swear it. Now.”

She shook her head, panic rising in her throat. “Can I at least know what it is before I swear?”

For the first time, she truly noticed him. His long white hair fell in disheveled strands around his pale, naked form, his body an alabaster white that glowed faintly under the crimson emergency lights. His eyes burned with an otherworldly green fire, and his expression was carved from equal parts anger and desperation.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “It’s my name,” he said. “I need you to swear to only say my name this one time, and in the future only when I ask it of you. Swear it, human woman!”

Her breathing came in quick, shallow gasps as she nodded furiously, her fear reaching its peak. “Yes! Yes, I swear!”

He exhaled sharply, his tension easing only slightly. “Damnit,” he muttered under his breath. Without hesitation, he leaned into her ear, his cold breath sending a chill down her spine.

In a voice barely louder than a whisper, he spoke his name.

Her eyes widened as she heard it, an ancient sound that reverberated through her very soul. The moment the name left his lips, her own eyes flared green, a radiant light blazing from within. His eyes glowed in response, and the air around them thickened with an electric charge.

“Repeat after me,” he commanded, his voice echoing with a power that sent shivers down her spine. Together, their voices intertwined as they chanted:

“Though the graveyard groans and shadows creep,

We awake the one that does not sleep.

With bone and ash, a curse we unloose.”

Before another word could be spoken, the world around them twisted and cracked. The air folded in on itself, a swirling void of black and green energy enveloping them. In an instant, both of them vanished, leaving behind nothing but the empty room and the fading echoes of their chant.

The summoned dog collapsed as if the life had been drained from it, dissolving into a cloud of ash and bone. The guards froze, their weapons still raised, staring at the empty space where their targets had been. Confusion and fear rippled through their ranks as one of them finally muttered, “What the hell just happened?”

No one had an answer. The silence that followed was deafening.